What once was a mirror, is now a window pane

Different photos in the same frame

I'm trapped in this gallery, yet I once was the art

and everyday I wish for a fresh start

but everytime I look it breaks my heart

The original, the only thing I ever knew

In the woods with a creek, crystal and blue

I wonder if you take her there as well

As you you ring your brazen victory bell

This art gallery is a living hell

As I see what could have been you and me

but maybe everything is meant to be

And I know my value is more than your fake

I'm pure and make no mistakes

This poem is about: 


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